


God's Gonna Cut You Down

by thegrumblingirl



Series: Moon River [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Western, Circumstances Push Them Together, Companionable Snark, Corvo's a gunslinger, Daud's an outlaw, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Frottage, Jess has a thing for bad boys, M/M, enemy of my enemy, happens in our universe (no Void no magic no whaling trade)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrumblingirl/pseuds/thegrumblingirl
Summary: 1830 — NIGHT’S LANDINGThe ride along the county district line was long, if one had a bounty on one’s head big enough to keep everyone on payroll fed for a month or three. Daud didn’t mind the dust in his eyes, and his ass didn’t turn numb from riding a week over rock and creek anymore. He minded none of it so much as he found it necessary, if he had a will to return to camp alive, andwiththe money.
Relationships: Background Corvo Attano/Jessamine Kaldwin, Corvo Attano/Daud
Series: Moon River [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690756
Comments: 30
Kudos: 58





	1. I Ride Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amazinmango](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amazinmango/gifts), [landakguling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/landakguling/gifts), [Resri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resri/gifts), [spider_fingers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spider_fingers/gifts), [Hellfire (Fangrl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangrl/gifts).



> KIDS. Kids. Grumble is back on her bullshit. SO MUCH.
> 
> It's Day... I've Lost Track of Quarantine and I hope y'all are staying safe and at home. To make it... well, not easier or more bearable, but at least _funnier_ , here's the outlaw/gunslinger AU no-one asked for.
> 
> Playlist: [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2EHSZkYZS1PUb462t2P0q1?si=exkCtdRSS56fbx3xfIZl8A).
> 
> Enormous thanks to mango, hellfire, spider, landakguling, and resri >:3c for some of the excellent ideas that made this story possible; from dialogue ideas to naming Daud's bastard horse, this is a fic of shamelessly nicking ideas <3

**1830 — NIGHT’S LANDING**

The ride along the county district line was long, if one had a bounty on one’s head big enough to keep everyone on payroll fed for a month or three. Daud didn’t mind the dust in his eyes, and his ass didn’t turn numb from riding a week over rock and creek anymore. He minded none of it so much as he found it necessary, if he had a will to return to camp alive, and _with_ the money. That last job had taken him a fair way’s out, him and handful of his crew. They’d split up immediately outside Crownpoint and then scattered to the seven winds: they’d been gone before any lawman or bounty hunter had even found their boots. Daud had been making his way back to The Colony on his own, meeting nary a soul on the trail. It’d been a good ride, and his horse had handled it well. After so many years on the road, he knew where to go almost before Daud tugged on the reins.

But there was someone else who knew his movements, it seemed. The past few months, Daud had discovered new tracks crossing his; had heard of a new hunter. Corvo Attano was his name, and he alone had come perilously close to tracking Daud to one of his stashes at least once. So far, Daud had managed to evade him each time, but he disliked the notion of being so predictable to even just one man. Attano anticipated his movements with alarming accuracy — and speed. When he’d done a little digging, Daud had found himself only mildly surprised to hear that Attano had won the Rodeo Verbena at only sixteen. One of the fiercest bullriding competitions, always moving with the frontier, and he’d won it fair and square against some of the most handsomely skilled fighters when he’d been a _boy_. Three years younger than Daud, by all accounts. Which put neither of them at boyhood age today, though.

Daud went up the road, slowing to a canter, to keep an eye on the road below. He’d always made it a habit to double back on himself, Attano alone couldn’t take the credit for that; but these days he wouldn’t take the risk if he didn’t have to. His saddlebags were too heavy with coin to take his chances by catching the same eye twice. In the valley below lay one of the abandoned mining towns of the West. Eventually, when the silver veins dried up, the miners would pack their bags and follow the dust further down the river. They left everything behind they couldn’t carry, and sometimes the houses were taken over by others who had been made to move on. Most of the time, however, these people were gangs and outlaws.

The Colony had been such a place. It had faded from any official record by the time Daud and his people had found it, and it’d taken ‘em good and long before they’d in any way settled into it. Now, they’d been there for nigh on two years, and it’d served them well. Billie liked to tease him about ‘putting down roots’ and her brothers for indulging him; but they had all been looking healthier these days. The jobs had been good, too.

The abandoned town barely a mile away really was abandoned, it seemed. Half a year, perhaps. Too many buildings still intact. He was about to turn back when he saw him: Attano. The digging he’d done had come with an old sketch, too, and more than that Daud listened when someone described the height, build, and tone of a man who might outride even him. If Attano was this close, then he had not been far behind in the first place — might have even been in Crownpoint when Daud’s men had hit the train. Might’ve seen it coming. Daud felt his skin crawl. Could be Lurk was right. Could be he was gettin’ old.

He watched as Attano eyed the old mining town same as Daud had done. He didn’t ride closer, though. Daud knew he had to move soon before Attano might spot him, with or without the help of his spyglass. Out of habit, he searched the horizon beyond his most immediate pursuer — and cursed. Attano wasn’t alone. Huh. This would have been the first time Attano had brought a posse to a hunt. Daud ground his teeth. Man seemed awfully sure of himself, this time.

He let his gaze go back to Attano, then returned to the party. He counted nine, and they were hanging back. Daud watched them a little longer this time, and frowned. Even if they were relying on Attano to scout for them, they were acting too leisurely for Daud’s liking. They didn’t have the look of men searching for their quarry, eager for reward. They had the look of men who’d already found their target and were merely waiting. Watching. And they weren’t watching the road towards Daud. They were watching Attano.

Daud checked their faces, finding mostly the usual suspect meatheads — until he arrived at the chiselled jaw of a well-known highwayman and outlaw. Teague Martin was tracking Attano? Whatever that was about, it could only be uniformly bad news. Just then, Martin sent two of his men racing towards the abandoned town, well in Attano’s blindspot. Daud lowered his spyglass. A distraction, and then an ambush. He knew well enough how these things played out — he was duly surprised that Martin hadn’t simply decided to shoot Attano in the back once he was close enough. But Attano was working with a well-reputed marshal, Geoff Curnow, who would not take kindly to having one of his deputies gunned down, and who was liable to go looking for the culprit.

Daud looked to the East. He could simply let Attano fight his way out — the man was good enough with a Colt. Might be even better than Daud. Might be. His horse danced on the spot, as if sensing his indecision. He didn’t _like_ Teague Martin. And he couldn’t imagine what Attano had done to deserve a bullet from that man’s rifle. He tugged on the reins. From the valley below, a small explosion sounded near the abandoned village, and Attano changed course. Martin and his posse set off at a gallop.

Daud would have to hurry.

*

It was a steady race against time, but he knew how to ride — and Bas knew how to outpace the wind. He couldn’t risk calling out to Attano without losing the element of surprise, and he’d not hear him, anyhow. He’d just have to be fast enough.

Attano was almost at the village entrance, Daud half a mile behind. One of Martin’s posse had diverted to flank Attano. Still riding hard, Daud reached for his shotgun strapped to the saddle. “Attano,” he muttered, “for an ace tracker you’re shit at spotting a damn _tail_.” He ought to save his breath, better to tell him to his face. Daud flew through the dilapidated gate just as the first shot rang out. Rifle — Martin had declared open season, and he wasn’t wasting any time. No point in hiding anymore.

“Attano!” Daud bellowed. A yard ahead of him, the man turned in the saddle. Daud knew the strength it took to keep a horse steady right then, and he thought he could see Attano’s arms straining from where he was. He rode up to him, bullets now finding — and as yet missing — him, too.

“Is this your doing?” Attano hollered back, drawing his weapon.

Close enough, Daud raised his own and fired at the thug who’d appeared up above Attano on the roof of the saloon, taking him out with a bullet to the knee and then the gut.

“What do you think?” he barked. “Come on, before they circle us.” Daud set off through a gap between buildings and, to his credit, Attano swiftly followed. They had to find a bottleneck, somewhere they couldn’t be surrounded so easily.

“The bank,” Attano called from behind him, sounding acutely aware of the irony of his suggestion. Daud smirked; but he was right. The bank sat against part of the rock face, hemmed in by buildings from either side. A shot struck the ground right in front of them, and Attano’s horse very nearly reared. Had to be young, then, to be so skittish.

“You have to take a foal on this hunt?” There was no forgetting that that was what Attano was on, either. Attano responded, in kind, by using the momentum to swivel around and fire back at his pursuers. Daud, out of the corner of his eye, spotted a forgotten powder barrel on a porch — right underneath where another of Martin’s goons had just appeared. Only, Attano was in a better position to hit it.

“Barrel,” Daud called, laying down covering fire with one hand while tossing Attano the shotgun, more or less blindly, with the other. Attano, asking no questions, righted himself, caught it, twisted to the other side, and levelled the shotgun. Daud prayed the barrel wasn’t empty.

It wasn’t. Two down, then. Martin had had eight men with him.

Daud liked those odds.


	2. For A Fistful of Dollars (And A Few Dollars More)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corvo, what are your thoughts on all this?  
> Corvo: [blank space]

Hunkered down low behind a fence, counting breaths and bullets and the echoes of steel toed boots, was not how Corvo had imagined his day, but by no means extraordinary. The company he kept, however, was. Daud, of all people, had come — what? To his rescue? Corvo huffed. When the shooting appeared to be over, he dared to lift his head up over the crates they’d used for cover.

“Keep it down,” Daud hissed from a few feet away, reloading. There was dust on his face and his clothes, but he hadn’t yet lost his hat. They listened to the quiet some more.

“They’re gone,” Corvo pronounced. “For now.” He looked over art Daud again, who stood, now, rolling his shoulders. Corvo eyed him critically. “And here I was, thinking you were a scoundrel of some sort.”

“An’ I heard you didn’t talk much.” The look Daud gave him in return was dark. “Thought you was taller, too. But maybe that’s just the horse.”

At that, Corvo rose to his full height and took one — just one — step closer to the man he’d been chasing, on and off, for months now.

Daud sucked on his teeth. “Well, shit,” he drawled, and didn’t sound too put out about it. Now, he did take off his hat, revealing pitch dark hair, combed back, with a little grey at the temples the mayor’s ladies would call ‘distinguished.’ But there was nothing distinguished about the way Daud blew out his cheeks, or the way he picked up the shotgun and hefted it up so the barrel rested on his shoulder. He was wearing a red henley, sleeves rucked up, and those ever-present dark gloves, leather tight across his knuckles. Well worn, practically creaking as he flexed his hold on the gun. Muscled forearms flexing, too.

Corvo abruptly looked away, mouth dry. Dammit. He knew what this was — adrenaline rush, and then the come-down. And it couldn’t be happening now. When he glanced back at Daud, the man was morosely watching the horizon.

“Leader’s not among the dead,” he grated, and Corvo found he didn’t feel the need to check the bodies to see for himself. “He’s gonna be back, but not alone.”

“It’s a long ride back to Crownpoint, even cross-country, not like you did,” Corvo said.

“Man’s a fast rider,” was all Daud said. He turned, looked at the bank building. “C’mon.”

Corvo followed him inside, and together they took a survey of the facilities. No supplies left beyond some candied apples neither of them were willing to dare unless severely pressed; nor ammunition.

“No money, neither,” Daud rumbled, dry humour buried so deep under the rubble Corvo blinked twice at hearing it — and recognising it for what it was. Daud didn’t wait for him to smile, however, and instead made moves to leave. Corvo trudged on after him, slowed down by his own thoughts. The sun was getting low. Their horses needed a break, and they did, too.

“Saloon, whorehouse, if available, or one of the stores?” Daud was asking now. He must have come to the same conclusion.

Corvo cast his eye about, his attention snagging on a place a little out of the way, but not too exposed. He jerked his chin toward it. Daud followed his gaze. Snorted. “The barn?”

Corvo shrugged. “The other houses are too vulnerable, and we can’t stay here. Barn’s more easily defended.”

“Hmm,” Daud hummed. “Until they set fire to it.” Before Corvo would say anything, though, he nodded. “Oh hell, let’s go.” He whistled sharply and his horse answered, whinnying, from wherever he’d sent it earlier, with a command and a slap on its flank.

Corvo called for his own mount, Amaranth, and she had the grace to follow behind Daud’s horse. It snorted as it came closer, as if admonishing, and as Daud took the reins and stowed his shotgun on the saddle, he said, “I know, you told me so.” Corvo rolled his eyes. Of course. He was stuck with the guy who talked to his horse.

“C’mon, girl,” he said softly when Amaranth reached him, nudging his shoulder.

They led the horses to the barn and tied them on, then out out what hay was still edible. Corvo regretted leaving the filling of the water trough to Daud when he turned and saw him walk up, carrying two buckets of water filled to the brim. He didn’t spill a drop. Corvo clenched his jaw. He had to get the… excitement, under control. Daud seemed to have no issue with that.


	3. Lions Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NAUGHTY WARNING!

Daud made sure the horses were watered, then brushed Bas’ coat for a moment, not yet wanting to find Attano watching him. Why hadn’t he arrested him yet? And, more to the point, why was Daud still _here_? Attano passed behind the horses, and Bas shifted. Daud gave a low, warning hum. Attano came to stand next to him, and Daud tensed. Bas, before he could stop him, turned and head butted Attano hard in the chest, knocking him back.

“Oof,” Attano couldn’t help the exhalation, and staggered back a pace as Daud stepped in between him and his trigger-happy horse.

“Bas,” Daud scolded firmly, raising his brows when the damned horse huffed with contempt. _Patronising shit_ , Daud thought.

“Bas?” Attano asked from behind him, sounded reluctant but no worse for wear. “Like the fish?”

“Like the bastard he is,” Daud grated. “Full name’s ‘Bastard, come back here, you stupid animal.’” He turned to see Attano give him a questioning sort of look. “We didn’t see eye to eye, at first.”

Attano nodded as if that explained anything at all, clearly doubting Daud had all his marbles together. “Sure,” he said.

“Also, he’s probably under the impression that you have a mind to arrest me,” Daud decided to just lay the cards on the table. “Soon as my back is turned. Which it was.”

Attano went quite still. “And you might just decide to finish the job they started,” he said, hiking his thumb over his shoulder.

Daud growled. “You realise that’s what this was designed to be, right? You turn up dead while tracking me, Curnow’s got a reason to come after me personally, Martin’s just the courier, all’s right with the world.”

Attano frowned at him. “Martin? Teague Martin?”

Daud nodded. “Saw him up on the ridge.”

Attano swore under his breath, putting his hands on his hips. Daud watched his long, calloused fingers as they splayed wide, then pulled himself together.

“What?” he challenged.

“Doesn’t take a marshal to figure out who wants me dead, then,” Attano said, sounding angry, disappointed. Tired.

“Who?” Daud asked despite himself. This did not concern him.

“Euhorn Kaldwin.” Attano sighed.

Daud whistled through his teeth. “The mayor of Crownpoint, huh? What’d you do to piss him off?” Daud had a few ideas, even for a goody-two-shoes like Attano. There was always some vice or another.

“Courtin’ his daughter,” Attano said, with little remorse but some resignation.

Daud shut his mouth with a click. That had not been one of them on the list.

“The mayor hired me to protect her during his last reelection campaign and, uh. Well. We fell in love.” He said it stubbornly, as if daring Daud to contradict him. Daud knew nothing of the truth of his feelings, but he knew Attano was a fucking idiot.

“Are you mad? Everyone knows Kaldwin keeps her virtually under lock and key — even I know that,” Daud groused. It was true, everyone knew, and through his crew’s constant gossip it had filtered through even to him. Treated her like royalty, Rulfio had said: in that no man of common birth was good enough for her.

Attano didn’t answer. He just looked pained. Like a man in love, Daud thought derisively.

“So what now?” he asked, telling himself not to get invested in this little drama. He had his own skin and coin to think of.

Attano turned and walked away, and Daud had to admit he didn’t mind the view. Went to show, he thought, the Kaldwin heiress probably didn’t either. Man filled out his jeans, still dusty after days on the road and knocking around here while bein’ shot at.

“This don’t concern you,” Attano repeated what Daud had told himself only a minute before.

Inexplicably, then, he found himself bristling.

“It does, you know,” he rumbled, even as he wondered what the hell was wrong with himself. “They want to frame me for shooting the deputy, they make it so it concerns me.”

Attano turned again, eyeing him up and down. “You want me to knock you out, tie you up, and take you back with me to Crownpoint, just so we can both get shot there? Cause that’s what I shoulda done.”

“I saved your ass,” Daud told him. “How about you give me a day’s head start?”

“How about I stick your head in the nearest outhouse?” Attano shot back, and it sounded ridiculous enough Daud snorted a laugh.

“This ain’t the fairground,” he drawled, then shrugged. “We can duel it out right now, _bodyguard_ ,” he challenged. They were standing only a few feet apart, ten at most, and at this distance neither of them would miss. There was just being faster and too slow. “Think you can draw that fast?”

Attano’s gaze darkened and he shifted his stance, just a little. Daud tracked the movement without having to look. His eyes still trained on Attano’s, he felt the air around them still. It became charged — hell, it had been since the shooting stopped. Something about how Attano had handled Daud’s shotgun, for one, and how his focus hadn’t wavered once. Daud felt heat rise inside himself, and knew Attano could see it in his eyes.

Fuck.

Next to them, the horses whinnied, jostling against each other as if seeking comfort. The dangerous moment between him and Attano broke, and Attano stepped two paces forward.

“I’m not shooting you next to the horses,” he growled.

Daud refused to budge. “Where would you prefer?” He didn’t get further before Attano was on him.

“Inside,” Attano rasped, jerking his head toward the barn. “Get it over with. Can still fuck each other over then.”

Daud felt an answering rumble in his chest. “Want me to fuck you over, or just fuck you?” he asked, surprising himself most of all by reaching for the belt loops of Attano’s damned jeans. He found he liked Attano’s impatience, and had a little bit of it to give in return. He swallowed reflexively, his throat so dry it clicked. They were both feeling it, the rush. The draw. So long aware of each other, the hunter and the hunted. So long Daud had eluded him and so long had Attano pursued him, living in his shadow. Always felt a little like living in each others’ pockets. Except it had never been like this with any other lawman on Daud’s trail. None of them were like Attano. And the way Attano was looking at him now, Daud wasn’t like any other bounty, either.

“Feeling presumptuous, are we?” Attano bit out. Then, he leaned in and bit Daud’s bottom lip. It might have ben meant to be a kiss, but if so it was a punishing one. For what, exactly — being a criminal, or being _here_ — Daud intended to find out. He bit back, teasing enough to soften the sting, and crowded against Attano. This wouldn’t be the height of dignity — fucking the man who hunted you because you were soft in the head enough to go and help him out of an ambush laid by a man you hated more was… foolish, to a fault. Daud supposed he was that sort of scoundrel, now.

Well, if nothing else, he knew what he wanted. First, then, he’d let Attano bully him towards the barn — and then, he’d repay him for all the headache he’d been causing him. Curiously enough, Attano seemed to have the same idea, and started dragging him along. Somehow, he managed not to break the kiss at all.

*

It wasn’t gentle, nor easy; and Daud did not find there to be anything particularly romantic about the way they were grinding against each other, half sheltered by the back of the barn (Daud might have shot Attano had he made any moves towards the hay loft). Pants down around their ankles and Attano currently nipping at Daud’s jaw, he decided things weren’t moving fast enough. He pushed against Attano’s chest a little, putting space between them. At Attano’s confused expression, he pointedly looked down between them. Bringing his hands up, he began removing his gloves, tugging them off one by one in deliberate, sharp movements. He lifted his gaze again to see Attano watching raptly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

They didn’t have any grease, on account of Daud _neglecting_ to bring any on an escape rise he was looking forward to spending evading Attano, not saving his sorry hide, and Attano grunted when Daud swiped his thumb over his tip and then took them both in his fist.

“We ain’t usin’ your gun oil,” Daud grated, feeling Attano buck against him nonetheless.

“Fine,” Attano grumbled, then seized Daud’s hand by the wrist, lifting it back up between them. Then, he leaned down and, to Daud’s abject surprise (and not a little arousal), licked a long stripe up his palm.

“That gonna help?” Daud rasped, swaying when Attano’s mouth wandered to his wrist and his lips closed around the heartbeat pulsing there.

“It’ll hurt less to try,” Attano said before returning to Daud’s palm, laving it with his tongue. Attano’s fingers curled around Daud’s forearm; but his other hand was still on Daud’s hip, holding on tight enough for him to feel it in the morning.

So close, Daud had to wonder what that tongue would feel like on other parts of him… but there was no time for that as Attano decided that it was enough and brought Daud’s hands back down between them. Attano’s hands were larger, but he didn’t seem to mind directing Daud’s instead.

“Strong grip,” he said roughly, his eyes half-lidded, head tipped back a little, and Daud used the opportunity to lean in and lay a biting kiss on his neck. He could feel the tendons jump underneath the skin at the attention, and he applied more pressure, gauging Attano’s reaction. Attano _whined_ low in his throat.

“Faster,” Daud rumbled, his lips brushing Attano’s skin, and eventually obeyed his own command before the other man could. He thought about getting that shirt off Attano, and those thighs wrapped around his waist… but that wasn’t what this was, or supposed to be. Attano twisted their joint grip and Daud’s breath hitched and stuttered. Not long now.


	4. The Man Comes Around (Death Always Wins)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE NAUGHTY! Also, violence.

Corvo felt his hips begin to shake, quiet tremors that would soon build towards release. And that was the point of all this, no? Not exploration, not… appreciation. Certainly not gratitude, even as Corvo had never felt less inclined to arrest the man — less, for sure, than when he had heard of the train robbery in Crownpoint, knowing that _Jessamine_ had been on that train. He’d had no chance to see her before he’d had to leave. And by all accounts, if it hadn’t been for Daud, he never would have seen her again. Daud, riding to his rescue like a madman.

He couldn’t rightly tell which if these thought it was that tipped him over the edge, nor would he care to explain any of it to Daud; but when he came, Daud was only a moment behind. Hell knew what’d done it for him. Both breathing heavily, they stood, leaning into each other, only for a moment. Then, Daud cleared his throat, and Corvo looked up to find his gaze, dark and with the weight of something undefined. They froze, staring, until he spell was broken by the horses neighing, alarmed, outside.

“Shit,” Daud cussed, and perhaps it was good that like this they could pay no mind to what their hands were coated in and what was drying where when they sprang apart, reaching for rags usually covered in gun oil to wipe off, then tucked themselves away. It took only seconds, and some hysterical part of Corvo couldn’t believe how absurd it would be to die now, with his cock out, in a barn, next to one of the most notorious outlaws in the country. What a time for someone to get the drop on them. They crept towards the barn doors, Daud signalling for Corvo to take the left side. They cracked them open an inch to look outside. What they realised was, well.

One of Martin’s men, on the ground. He was crawling, most likely badly wounded. It must have taken him the past half hour to belly-crawl his way over here. He had a revolver clutched in his hand, and Corvo wondered how often on the way over here had he thought of just using it on himself. Could no-one be _that_ loyal to Martin. But whatever the man wanted, he wouldn’t find it here. Even from where they were, it was obvious that he would barely be able to raise the gun, much less aim. Corvo turned his head to look at Daud, who sought his gaze and raised his eyebrows in silent question.

“Up to you,” he said quietly. His voice was still rougher than usual, after… just now. “It’s you they were after.”

Corvo shrugged. “He ain’t gonna make it either way. Might as well put him out of his misery before he shoots the horses.”

“My kind of thinking,” Daud returned with approval in his tone.

“You mean the obvious kind?” Corvo said before he could stop himself.

Daud let out what might have been a snort. “You insulting me or yourself?”

“Are you gonna go take care of him, or should I?” Corvo shot back.

“I’ll do it,” Daud said, acting generous. “On the house.” Before he moved past the door, he said, “Cover me.” As if it needed to be said — or as if they’d done this a hundred times before. Corvo positioned himself so he had a line on the thug. Daud nodded, then stepped outside.

The thug looked up at the sound of Daud’s boots in the dust. He tried to aim the gun, but Corvo could see now that his shoulder was busted. He dropped it with a groan. “Bastard,” he croaked at Daud, and spit at his feet.

“Please, that’s my horse,” Daud returned, his wit turned biting. “Call me Daud.”

“You were supposed to be the bait.” The thug spat blood this time.

“Ain’t no-one tell me about that,” Daud said easily. He didn’t care that Corvo heard all of it. “Coulda cut me in, I might’ve made my mind up different.”

The thug squinted up at where Daud was now looming over him. “No love lost between you and the boss.”

“You’re right,” Daud answered. “None lost between me and the hunter, either.”

“So would you’ve helped us?”

Daud unholstered his gun. “No.” Then, he shot him dead.

Corvo fought the beat of adrenaline that surged through him at the sight. He licked his lips, cracked with dehydration, just as Daud looked up towards him.

“C’mon. Help me clean this up.”

*

They dragged the body back to the bank, where the vultures were already circling. Wolves might soon join them, and it wouldn’t do to be nearby when they did. Corvo followed Daud back to the barn. Neither of them spoke. On the way, they found another well pump that wasn’t broken and washed their hands, still without comment. They fetched their packs from the horses’ saddles and went inside the barn. Thankfully, nothing told of what they’d done in there. Sure enough the thug hadn’t been able to tell… even though Daud hadn’t bothered finding either his gloves or his hat before going out to meet him. Corvo went back outside and checked on the horses one more time, even Bas letting him remove the saddle itself without fuss; and then turned to find Daud standing, leaning against the open barn door, ankles and arms crossed, watching him.

“First watch?” he asked. He didn’t seem relaxed, but there was more of a sense of calm about him. ‘Fucked out,’ Corvo’s mind supplied, and he pushed the thought away.

“Still worried I’ll knock you out and tie you to a post?” Corvo asked in return.

“Depends. You worried I’ll shoot you in the head?” Daud wasted no time. “You’re carrying my money, Attano. Money I intend to leave with.” Corvo had reached him now, and they stood a saddle’s width apart, Corvo carrying both of them. Safer that way.

“Not really,” he said, watching Daud tilt his head a fraction at the answer. “I’m not going to arrest you, Daud. And unless you have some other grudge against me, I’m not worried, either.”

“Huh,” was all Daud said, moving back to let Corvo pass.

“Yeah,” Corvo said as he set down the saddles on top of some haystacks. “Even though I’d have had good reason to even if Curnow hadn’t deputised me and sent me after you.” He turned to see Daud frown.


	5. God's Gonna Cut You Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good-bye...

Daud had to wait until after they’d sat on their bedrolls and retrieved some food and water from their saddlebags before he got an explanation for any of that nonsense. Attano pulled something from his vest — a journal, and from inside, he took a small photograph. He handed it to Daud.

“Recognise her?” he asked, sounding bemused more than anything.

Daud took the picture — and nearly spat out the bite of roasted boar he’d just taken. Yes, he recognised her alright. She’d been on the train. He turned the photograph over in his hand, and found a handwritten inscription:

> _Corvo—_
> 
> _When you are near, my heart is at peace._
> 
> _Come back to me, always._
> 
> _Jessamine_

Oh, boy.

Daud turned it back over and passed it back to Attano. He took his time chewing his mouthful, and then he said: “Your lady has a thing for bad men, Attano. She was in the same train car I was. Was watching me like a hawk the entire time — and she liked what she saw.” Shit. Should probably not have said that.

Attano, however, smirked. “Why do you think she took up with me, behind her father’s back?”

Daud scoffed. “You’re no villain just for that, Attano.”

“Not like you, you mean?” Attano pressed, and gestured vaguely at the world outside the barn. Daud knew what he meant; and it was breaking his will (and, to be clear, his dick) a smidge to know that that lady with the dark eyes happened to be, well. Attano’s lethal vice.

“Lapsed Catholic,” Daud returned gruffly, and then blinked when Attano laughed, clear and deep and honest. It even reached his eyes.

“You take first watch, bad boy,” Attano told him. “I’m too fucking tired from chasing you all week.”

“Oh and running from you isn’t exhausting?” God damn him — Daud really needed to learn to curb his tongue with Attano around.

“You were runnin’? I scare you that much?” Attano didn’t miss a beat in teasing, and Daud damn near bristled.

He didn’t like it.

*

The night passed without further incident, save for Daud waking Attano at around two o’clock to change shifts. The man sat up, rubbed at his eyes, and went to take the next watch without complaint. Or without saying anything. At dawn, they were readying their horses.

“Bas,” Daud chided quietly. The damn animal had an unfortunate habit of standing on Daud’s foot if he thought that ‘early’ really was ‘too early.’ Bas snorted, shook his head and with a huff stepped off Daud’s boot. Not like the time Daud had nearly lost that same boot to the marshes outside Potterstead. Daud cut a covert glance over to Attano. No-one had been shot, or arrested, for the remainder of the night. But Attano hadn’t said a word on that he was planning on doing now. Not that it was any of Daud’s business.

They roasted some coffee and drank it piping hot. Still not saying a word to each other. _Guess there’s nothing left to say_ , Daud thought.

It happened when he mounted his ride first, Attano still on the ground next to him. Daud was about to say something to the tune of goodbye when Attano reached up, grabbed him by the lapels of his coat, and yanked him down towards him. Daud’s hand flew to his holster, but he would have been too late. ‘Cause he hadn’t seen it coming, and what that was, there’d been no telling, anyhow.

Attano kissed him. Deep and a little filthy, and utterly confident that Daud wouldn’t shoot him now, either. And Daud didn’t. When Attano let him go, he had to remember not to go sliding off his horse. Once he was settled upright again, he squinted down at the man.

“What was that for?”

Attano smiled, a little sheepish. “Suppose Jess and I both have a thing for bad men.”

Daud, still narrowing his eyes, swallowed again. “You askin’ me for help rescuing your princess from her gilded cage, bodyguard? ‘Cause you know I can’t do that.”

“I know,” Attano shook his head, inexplicably still smiling.

“Can’t matter she was flirting with me on the train. While I was robbing it.” Daud knew he was digging his own grave. Attano’s smile turned smug. Daud sighed. “You could ride with me a while, ya know. Martin’s probably halfway to Crownpoint by now.”

“You know _I_ can’t do that. But I’ll be in touch,” Attano returned.

“You got no idea where I’ll be,” Daud said doubtfully.

“Oh, I’ll find you.”

Daud shivered, vaguely. That should _not_ sound promising.

“Attano,” he growled in warning. “You show up at my camp, you’ll get yourself shot before I can get to you.”

“Consider it?” Attano asked instead, and they both knew what he was aiming at.

Daud exhaled through his nose, long and emphatic. Then, he put his hat back on, the movement final.

“Consider yourself considered,” he grated, then tugged on Bas’ reins. He tipped his hat. Then, he left Attano there, outside a barn in the middle of nowhere. They’d meet again, someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... or is it?

**Author's Note:**

> So. DID YA LIKE IT?


End file.
